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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137738">(Stay.)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefisted/pseuds/bluefisted'>bluefisted</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Search. [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Murder, Nightmares, Pining, addiction issues on kakashi's end, but have since stopped doing that, i very well might compile this into a multichapter, i was going to write this out of order, oh man they are so in it dude, there's just a lot going on with this series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:20:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefisted/pseuds/bluefisted</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He turns to walk back to his room, and Kakashi doesn't follow him. There's something stuck to the back of his throat, though, words unsaid. Don't go yet. Stay. Please keep talking to me. Don't go. None of them come out, but with the way Obito looks over his shoulder and back at his friend, Kakashi thinks he may have let one slip on accident.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Search. [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(Stay.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i'm getting jiggy with a rifle-- i'll pull the trigger with my eyes closed. hoping to hit you somewhere vital, but when i miss, you come and kiss me with a smile.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     "Stay with me," Kakashi pleads, struggling to pull air into his lungs as his hands fight to hold pressure on a set of cracked and shifting ribs, "Stay with me, <em> come on</em>, it's okay, you're okay--"</p>
<p>     The heat coming from the two men in the back of the car is enough to nearly completely obscure the view into it. Which is good, Kakashi supposes, because if anyone were to walk down this alley and by this car, they would most <em> certainly </em> call the police upon seeing one man straddling another as he desperately tries to stop him from bleeding out. He tries to be careful as he holds pressure on Obito's side, against his bones that keep shifting strangely under his skin - he's bleeding, <em> profusely</em>, and despite his best efforts Kakashi just can't manage to get it to stop, or even slow. It slips through the gaps in his fingers, warm and wet and vile, thick and sickening. Arterial. Organ blood. It paints the leather seats of the back of the car, and soaks the rolled-up sleeves of Kakashi's sweatshirt. He's dying yet again, and pretty quickly at that.</p>
<p>     "It's okay," he says again, and whether it's to convince himself or an entirely delirious Obito, he can't tell. Obito is leaned partially against the doorframe and the back seat, laid out and across them as much as he can be, not really moving unless it's to flinch away from the man hovering more than halfway over him. "You'll be okay, you--" Kakashi stops to rip his zip-up off awkwardly, trying to keep one hand still as the other is removed, and presses it to the still-bleeding wound. "Just breathe, right? Focus, stay awake."</p>
<p>     Obito looks at him with such sad, pretty eyes, beautiful eyes, and doesn't say anything at all. He raises one hand to Kakashi's face, to the left side of it, the blood on his fingers tacky and warm, and strokes his thumb over the younger's cheek. He can feel the thumbprint swipe something warm over the skin, and it makes Kakashi's stomach turn with a vengeance he's only felt once before. Obito's not all there; There's rarely ever <em> light </em> in that man's eyes, but there <em> is </em> life in them, and it's dulling like a blade held to a grindstone. Kakashi leans into the touch on instinct. Perhaps, though, not <em> only </em> on instinct. Perhaps some part of him needs to keep the other engaged, and perhaps out of a staggering need for tenderness the quicker he fades. Obito says nothing, just shakes and flinches and bleeds wordlessly, and Kakashi is forced to play observer as the interior of the vehicle turns red. The leather is drenched, the floor mats are soaked so badly they're almost expanding with the moisture. The entire space smells violently like copper, like metal and like blood. Obito's blood, his own. It smears over everything. Kakashi thinks it might even be in his hair, under his nails, under his skin and trapped in his own veins. </p>
<p>     "You have to tell me what to do," Kakashi begs, growing even more desperate, "I can't hold pressure and drive, I--"</p>
<p>     "I love you," Obito wheezes, still petting over his friend's cheek with an unheard of sweetness, "You know."</p>
<p>     Time seems to freeze, then. Obito stops moving exactly in place, and the blood stops flowing. He doesn't blink, he doesn't draw breath. Nothing moves. The look in his eyes doesn't change, or hide evidence of dead man's softness. The steam on the windows stops gathering altogether. Even now, like this, Kakashi is sure he could laugh in earnest. He could laugh like this, drenched in the blood of everyone he's ever loved and drenched in his own, but at the very same time he's dead certain he could cry, too. He could sob at the sound of those words in Obito's voice, gentle and kind, no matter how final or falsified. There is a desperation to hear them again, a want to replay it over and over, and then there is the absolute truth that was said louder than those words - and yet not spoken at all. A kind of code spoken, suddenly, an understanding that this, all of this, is just slightly wrong. Off. This is not real. This is the truth Kakashi chokes down as those words are spoken.</p>
<p>This is just a dream. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>     "Get up."</p>
<p>     "Fuck!" Kakashi hisses, starting awake with a harsh jolt. He sucks in a breath between his teeth, fighting the impulse to rip his mask away from his mouth. His heart is hammering in his chest, and he can feel the cold sweat just starting to gather at the back of his neck and at his collar. He swallows thickly, leaning back in the front seat of the car, and furrows his eyebrows as he works to catch his breath.</p>
<p>     Obito watches stiffly, body leaned away from Kakashi. He doesn't seem startled, so much as braced to receive a blow. As Kakashi works to calm the ringing in his ears with closed eyes, one hand dragged over his face, he can only force out a gritted, "You have to stop nudging me awake like that. Freaks me out."</p>
<p>     Obito's shoulders relax minutely, and he lets out a breath through his nose. "Right," he says after a moment, seemingly understanding, "Sure. But we're stopping, soon. I'm not carrying your shit inside."</p>
<p>     Kakashi swallows hard again, rubbing both hands over his face and blinking firmly. He's here, he tells himself, in the present with dry hands and dry eyes and absolutely no idea how long it's been since they got up at four AM this morning. The sun is setting, now, and the area looks even less familiar than it had before with the way the sinking sun hits it. Which, with all of his moving around lately, probably isn’t saying much. Looking to his right, staring out the passenger side window, the younger watches the scenery pass him by in something of a defined blur. It’s flat, mostly, but the colors are vibrant and doused in electric pinks, the purple hues left over reflecting off of far away hills. If this were shown to him at any other time, he might find it spectacular instead of disorienting. </p>
<p>     It could be a beautiful dream, though, maybe - Obito driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other keeping a cigarette steady between two fingers. He keeps his eyes on the road behind a pair of dark sunglasses, only looking away to glance up into the rear-view mirror and back, hair being lightly tossed around by the wind coming through the cracked window. Kakashi doesn’t realize he’s been memorizing the way light catches his friend’s sharpened features, his jaw, nearly-hidden eyes and his scars, until the other says something. </p>
<p>     “What?” Obito asks flatly, glancing over. “You want one?”</p>
<p>     “Yeah,” Kakashi mutters, only telling a half-lie. “Sure.”</p>
<p>     Obito reaches into his center console without looking, and produces his pack of Malboro Reds. It only takes him a second to procure one and hand it to Kakashi without taking his left hand off the wheel, before shifting in his seat and settling again. Kakashi manages a lighter from his own back pocket, moving his mask away just slightly, and hunches over in his seat to light his cigarette. </p>
<p>     “...When did you start?”</p>
<p>     Kakashi sits back up as he gives a long drag of his cigarette, looking over with a raised brow. “Hm?”</p>
<p>     “Smoking. When did you start.”</p>
<p>     Kakashi blinks once, bewildered. Does it matter? Is this a test? Or is it just a question asked in innocence, with genuine curiosity behind it? Is Obito going through the same motions he did, wondering what happened, wanting to know what made him this way? Is this a matter of knowing him, or was it just small talk? Is this some poor attempt at beginning the process of understanding, or just slaughtering the silence to leave no room for anything else? Does Obito even make poor attempts at anything, anymore? Still, he fights for an answer anyway, determined to make something out of a handful of words.</p>
<p>      “Uh,” the younger starts, trying to dig deep into his memory. He does, in fact, remember the moment now that he's searching for it - a single cigarette swiped from a friend's pack, smoked at the far end of a nearby park with a long grill lighter temporarily 'borrowed' from Minato and Kushina. "Just before I went to prison. You?"</p>
<p>     Obito says nothing, and his face refuses to betray him. “Fifteen.”</p>
<p>     “About the same age, then. Young.” Kakashi says, but the truth is that it isn’t. Not for him, not for either of them. Especially not for the boy who died as a child. </p>
<p>     "Not really." </p>
<p>     They say nothing else. When Obito finishes his cigarette, it’s put out in the husk of a can of Red Bull. Kakashi tries to will his mind to sharpen over the nicotine, tries to remember where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing, and succeeds with only minor success. He’s slept for most of this car ride, or at least, he’s fairly certain he has. He supposes the state of his sleep cycle doesn't really matter as Obito pulls off into a single-floor motel parking lot. It's clearly a rickety old place, the paint peeling off the walls and doors in chunks, the numbers on doors missing on various room units. The old positions are highlighted only by the dirt imprint they left behind, and there appear to be no card-readers sat firmly under the doorknobs. Only old-fashioned keyholes remain, rust beginning to gather at the edges of them. Either hilariously or to his own dread, the sign looming over the building states that this place rents by the hour. Kakashi hopes they're staying for at least a few, because being honest with himself, he doesn't think his ass will ever become un-numbed after this. In the back of his mind, he thinks bedbug-free mattresses would be nice, too.</p>
<p>     With a scoff, Kakashi turns to his friend as the other shuffles through the glove compartment for, presumably, an ID of some kind. The younger can't help but yank Obito's chain about this one - the joke is <em> right there</em>. "Hourly?" It takes all of Kakashi's restraint not to giggle like a child. “Bold. You’re not even gonna take me to dinner, first?”</p>
<p>     Obito stops dead in his tracks, mid-way through his motion to open the driver's side door. He turns, slowly, almost as though he’d been slapped, and fixes Kakashi with a stare that says all it needs to.</p>
<p><em>      Shut up, before I give you a </em> real <em> head injury to worry about. </em></p>
<p>     Kakashi can’t help but laugh in earnest when Obito shakes his head and shuts the door behind him with too much force, walking toward the front office with exaggerated irritation in his step. It's clear, at least to him, that Obito's being thoroughly dramatic, with no genuine agitation behind his actions. He's always been like that, especially with Kakashi, who is proud to admit he can still get under the other's skin seven ways to Sunday. It's the first real laugh he's had in awhile, the first time in awhile he can recall not being able to smother that laugh. That's always been Obito's gift.</p>
<p>     Something about that, though, manages to make the younger's throat tight. It makes his brows furrow and the laughter die quickly in his chest, sad and defeated, flattened and cold. Obito used to be overly dramatic. He used to huff and goose-step and roll his eyes and throw hands in the air and <em> animate</em>, but now, his only tells of emotion are a distinct lack of tensed shoulders and a tightened jaw. He doesn't speak to make others happy, he doesn't act for the attention of the entire world. He speaks for his own benefit, and acts on calculated whims. He's different at a nearly molecular level.</p>
<p>     Something in Kakashi's brain snaps at this for the first time, though.</p>
<p>     Kakashi isn't sure if it was the nightmare, the lack of sleep, or maybe too much of it. He grabs another cigarette from Obito's pack and cracks the passenger door, frustrated with himself. What does it <em> matter </em> if Obito is different like this? Does it matter that he grew up, no matter how brutally? Does it matter that now, he doesn't laugh or goof around or tell as many kind lies as he used to? That he doesn't put on a show for the whole world, begging them to laugh or cry or just give him miniscule scraps of their attention? That he's stopped performing in one respect, and is beginning anew in another? Does it matter that he doesn't help kind old women carry groceries to their cars, but now, merely watches from a distance? Kakashi takes a long, hard drag off of his cigarette with both eyes shut. He's nuanced, now, and not just some living memory. Obito's core <em> is </em> the same, it <em> is </em> - if it wasn't, Kakashi is sure he'd be dead. Kakuzu would've smashed his skull into the curb once more, twice more, and his brain would likely be spread over concrete instead of wobbling precariously on his shoulders. He'd be wherever Obito wants him to be - back at the apartment awaiting instructions, or, more dangerously, dead of his best friend's gun.</p>
<p>     Moreover, even if Obito had changed so deeply that he truly <em> did </em> spare the life of an old friend on nothing more than a whim, then wouldn't it be true that he'd be sat in a hospital somewhere? If it were a whim, if he wanted nothing to do with Kakashi after that, he wouldn't have helped treat him for concussion. Obito wouldn't have folded to being joined, he wouldn't have laid Kakashi in the back of his car as he bled from a split skull. They wouldn't be here right now, if Obito was truly so different.</p>
<p>     So, for once, Kakashi has exasperation instead of desperation in his tone when he begs the bleeding, white-haired child in the parking lot to stop crying. There's no patience in his tone this time, when he tells that boy that scar will close. Just like the one on the back of his head. Stop crying. Stop crying. You're fine, and so is he. Different is not dead, and distance is not decay.</p>
<p>     Kakashi reaches back to feel at the site of the split. The stitches are there, raised and tender, but at least not constantly sore. A mild improvement from what it had been before, but still acting as a reminder. Obito was right. He'd been stupid, and nearly ruined things for the both of them. Kakashi shakes with the understanding that he had no right. Perhaps that extends to now. He <em> has </em> no right.</p>
<p>     Kakashi is slapped out of his daydream as Obito comes out of the front office with what looks to be two keys in his hand, and a piece of paper. The younger's stomach turns almost <em> nervously </em> at the sight of him, nearly like a pathetic child with some sort of middle-school crush. He walks with a sure step, tall and broad, outwardly confident in his direction in every sense of the word. Kakashi watches him approach, the dusky sunlight saturating him in color, making the dark colors he wears seem vibrant. He's… </p>
<p>     "Here. Your room," Obito says, handing Kakashi an old key with a small placard attached to it. There's a number stamped into it - 234. Obito pockets his own key and opens the back door of the car, starting to grab their things. "You're a few doors down from me."</p>
<p>     "Loved that band as a kid." Kakashi jokes, though fails miserably at tonal delivery. Obito fixes him with another flat stare - <em> I know, and please don't put me through any more of your shit jokes - </em>and continues grabbing his own things from the car. He slings a backpack Kakashi's seen before over his shoulder, and starts to walk away from the car to leave the younger man to his own devices. Obito heads to his room, apparently, and only stops to use his keys to lock the doors prematurely. </p>
<p>     "We're here for one night. Eat and sleep while you have the chance. You meet me here in the early morning, four AM."</p>
<p>     Kakashi wants to be surprised that Obito is keeping a firm distance between them, but he isn't, and he'd be a fool to feel even the slightest bit of shock. With a weight in his heart despite knowing better than to let it settle, he grabs what little he has in the back seat, and shuts the door to go and check what damp and unfresh Hell he'll be sleeping in tonight.</p>
<p>     As it happens, it's not an <em> awful </em> place to sleep for a night. The walls are definitely thin, considering Kakashi is nearly certain he can hear <em> Maury </em> from a room over, and there's tragically no coffee pot. Tossing his bag onto the bed, it definitely springs a little - not cardboard, no bodies in the mattress - and the carpet does <em> not </em>reek of mold when stepped on. There's a little table and a TV, and what looks like a pizza delivery advertisement on the nightstand. Well, Kakashi thinks with a shrug as he removes his mask, not a bad pick. He sits on the edge of the bed, clicks the TV on, and decides that just maybe, taking that parlor up on their ten-dollar large pan-crust pepperoni wasn't such a bad plan. Almost like a regular night in between shifts at home.</p>
<p>     "Fuck!" Kakashi exclaims for the second time today, standing right back up as the shock slams him with brutal force, "Shit!"</p>
<p>     There's a surge of panic at realizing what he's done - in losing track of the days, of the time, he's probably effectively lost not one, but <em> both </em> of his jobs. He's firstly amazed that it took him this long to remember his status as slave to capitalism, and secondly crushed by the true understanding that he <em> definitely </em> has no money now. Not that he wasn't painfully aware of this fact before, of course, considering his inability to put any more gas in the car he left at Obito's apartment. Kakashi supposes that, in the grand scheme of things, those things are all entirely replaceable, but what he's <em> found </em> is not. It's still enough to make him have a five-minute period of slight panic and overwhelming realization, pacing back and forth in the room he's calling home tonight. In retrospect, losing his jobs doesn't even stack up to the <em> worry </em>he knows he's probably causing the staggering four people he's friends with. Guy must be losing his mind, and more than likely, Asuma, Kurenai and Iruka are frantically turning over every rock they can back home to search for him.</p>
<p>     Kakashi doesn't think he can sit with that thought, and calls the only person he thinks he can trust not to go running after him. Well, more like the person he feels he can trust with hearing him speak, right now. The one man who would come running if he asked. The one man he won't <em> let </em>come running after him, the one man who would respect those wishes.</p>
<p>     Guy.</p>
<p>     There's no answer when he calls, of course - Kakashi imagines he's probably out for a run at this hour. Despite this, despite the long bout of silence left when Guy's automated voice tells him to <em> leave a message after the tone, please! I would like to get back to anyone who reaches out to me!</em>, he doesn't hang up.</p>
<p>     "Guy," Kakashi says, unsure of how to begin, or what to say. "I know this is out of nowhere, and hearing this will make you want to scream, but, uh. Thank you for your years and years of patience. Your belief in me, your belief in what I... What I didn't do. I found him, not too long ago. He's different these days, but I, uh. You know? It doesn't actually matter. What matters is I <em> found him</em>, Guy. I found him. Can you believe that? Can you tell Kurenai, Asuma, Iruka, that they all... You know what? Nevermind, actually. I'll see you around sometime, yeah? I'll see you around. I just wanted to tell you I'm not dead. Have a nice night, alright?"</p>
<p>     He hangs up slowly and quietly, almost as if afraid of cracking his phone screen by pressing the 'end' button. It is something of an end, he imagines - those friends, those people, Kakashi isn't sure he can face again. Not like this. Not after all this.</p>
<p>     Kakashi decides against eating, instead choosing to rest his head on an incredibly rough pillow and try his very damndest to sleep it all away. He doesn't think about Kurenai's bright eyes, Iruka's kind smile, the smell of Asuma's rolled cigarettes, or the sound of Guy's boisterous laugh. He thinks of nothing but every mistake he's ever made, intruding on Obito's life, leaving treasured friends behind. He thinks of trying, of effort, and of fear of it all being wasted. </p>
<p>     He falls asleep to the fear of failure.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>     Nausea. Blackness, numb fingers. Bile stuck to the teeth, between them, under the tongue. A total and complete inability to move. Muffled voices, and vomit that's thick enough to be choked on, stuck precariously in his throat. A mouth full of sand, gritty and soured.</p>
<p>     "Move him! Seriously, we're gonna get our asses busted if you don't make it look right or he chokes on his puke!"</p>
<p>     "Oh, come on! It'll just look like he passed out, right? We just pop the knife in his little fingers, and boom! Done!"</p>
<p>     Huh?</p>
<p>     "He's gonna be here in less than ten minutes with that brat he's been working on, and you want to take <em> guesses </em> at this?! He'll knock our heads together if anyone figures this out! That stupid kid is getting <em> less </em> stupid by the hour under him, and--"</p>
<p>     "<em>Relax, </em>will you? We'll give this pipsqueak some defensive wounds, trash the house and call it a day! She almost took out one of my eyes, so just grab one of his or something. Go for the left one, sock him in the mouth or something. Make sure you fuck his hands up, too. See if you can split the knuckles, bust a finger."</p>
<p>     No. No, please, no. Please, no.</p>
<p>     "Roger dodger!"</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>     Kakashi bolts upright, sucking air into his lungs as if he'd been deprived of it for days. His hair sticks to his temples, to his forehead, and his mouth tastes rotten, like it always does. Leaning back against the bed frame, Kakashi sets a hand over his racing heart, and tries to steady himself with closed eyes.</p>
<p>     What kind of dream <em> was </em> that? It wasn't laid out like all of them are. His dreams, his nightmares especially, are vivid with imagery and sound, smell and texture. His dreams, his nightmares, consist of faces he can place, and voices he's scared to stop hearing, laughs he will always remember fondly. But this, this particular nightmare, was enough to wiggle under his skin through old wounds. It was enough to tear them wide and begin the bleeding anew. The voices he's never heard before echo loudly in his head, <em> bust our asses, that kid, almost took out mine, go left</em>, it all makes him tremble visibly, makes him sick, makes him afraid of this room he can see the entirety of. <em> She </em> lurks in the shadows like a ghost unable to move on, and now, those voices are like mud on his senses.</p>
<p>     Kakashi does the only thing he can think of between breaths. He texts Obito.</p>
<p>
  <b>Are you awake?</b>
</p>
<p>     The response is oddly fast. </p>
<p>
  <b>Yes. Why?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Do you have another cigarette on you?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Sure. End of the hall. I'll step out.</b>
</p>
<p>     Thank God, Kakashi praises to himself, yanking off his sweat-drenched shirt to replace it with a clean one. He puts his old zip-up sweater on before heading outside, hands in his pockets, likely looking every inch the mess he feels. He forgoes his mask on catching the clock - two-ish in the AM, with no one outside - and tries to make sure he has his key on the way out.</p>
<p>     Obito is standing by the car, leaned against the hood with a cigarette already lit. He holds one out to Kakashi, not looking at him while he does so, either out of respect for his not wearing a mask or anger at the scar that is carved into his left side. Kakashi takes it with shaking fingers, bringing it to his lips and taking a lighter to the end of it. </p>
<p>     "...You're shaking." Obito states, still not making eye contact.</p>
<p>     "Night terror," Kakashi says, shaking his head once. "It was nothing."</p>
<p>     Obito doesn't press it any farther, and Kakashi finds himself grateful for it. He can't talk about it, not with the agreement they have in place. They don't talk about that day, about that night, without risking another screaming match. So Kakashi presses it to his chest, holds that nightmare close, and just keeps steadily drawing breaths over a cigarette. It would pass. They always pass. They always, always pass. It wasn't real. <em> He </em> killed Rin. No one else, and to think as much would be delusion on a fantastic scale.</p>
<p>     For the first time, Kakashi doesn't wholly believe that statement.</p>
<p>     For the first time, Kakashi can't be sure of this. Did he kill Rin? Or did that lukewarm, non-corporeal dream just delude him into thinking he didn't? He can't be sure if he is the monster, or if the monster had been lurking under his nose the entire time. The uncertainty sewn into his mind is enough to make him feel sick all over again, makes him feel like a child still handcuffed to a metal table. He trembles harder still, fighting another bout of nausea, fighting the darkening tunnel vision of a panic attack begging him to squeeze both eyes shut and <em> scream. </em></p>
<p>     "Kakashi," Obito says, softer than he'd normally be, "It was a dream. Slow down, and take a breath with no nicotine in it."</p>
<p>     Obito doesn't touch him, doesn't look at him, makes almost no notice that he's even there despite speaking directly to him. But his tone is lacking in edge. Almost soft. Not gentle, but not worn thin, either. It is the same when he speaks again, somehow picking up on all the panic Kakashi is trying desperately to swallow. "It was just a dream. Breathe. You'll be fine, just focus. I can feel you panicking from here. Focus."</p>
<p>     Focus. </p>
<p>     "On what?" Kakashi whispers, taking another drag off of his cigarette. Following directions has always been something of a strong suit.</p>
<p>     Obito looks at him, finally, and exhales his last drag as a sigh through his nose. He puts the end of it out on the bottom of his shoe, and turns to face Kakashi. "What are you standing on?"</p>
<p>     "...Concrete."</p>
<p>     "Where?"</p>
<p>     "I don't know."</p>
<p>     "What are you standing outside of?"</p>
<p>     "A motel."</p>
<p>     Obito takes out his phone, and shows Kakashi the screen. "Tell me the time and the date."</p>
<p>     With bleary eyes, he tries to focus. He can hear the command echoing in his skull - <em> focus, Kakashi. </em></p>
<p>     "...Two twenty-seven. It's the sixteenth," Kakashi days, leaning down to put his own cigarette out. It's helping, slowly but surely, and the younger can start to feel himself coming back down as he focuses on his surroundings. "It's a by-the-hour motel. You're down the hall."</p>
<p>     "When did I tell you we'd be leaving by?"</p>
<p>     This one takes Kakashi a moment to conjure. "...Four. About an hour and a half from now."</p>
<p>     "Good. Keep repeating that," Obito says, pushing off the hood of the car to stand upright. He takes a brief pause before speaking again, his tone returning to something not quite friendly, and yet not at all hostile. "You're okay, Kakashi. Try to get some more sleep."</p>
<p>     He turns to walk back to his room, and Kakashi doesn't follow him. There's something stuck to the back of his throat, though, words unsaid. <em> Don't go yet. Stay. Please keep talking to me. Don't go. </em> None of them come out, but with the way Obito looks over his shoulder and back at his friend, Kakashi thinks he may have let one slip on accident.</p>
<p>     "Hey," Obito calls, his voice echoing ever so slightly, "I mean it. Eat something. Go back to bed with the TV on. You're fine."</p>
<p>     You're fine. Yeah. "Obito?"</p>
<p>     "What."</p>
<p>     Kakashi thinks he's beautiful under those piss-yellow, dirty and dimmed outdoor hallway lights. He thinks Obito is beautiful not just here, but anywhere, always. "Thank you."</p>
<p>     "There's nothing to thank me for. Go on. You'll feel better once you eat." </p>
<p>     Right. Pizza places probably don't deliver at nearly three AM, but vending machines are eternal.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>     The arms Kakashi finds himself wrapped in are warm and strong, holding a consistent pressure not meant to break bones or staunch bleeding.</p>
<p>     "You can't stay here," comes a too-familiar voice, gentler than it's ever been, "I can't hold you forever."</p>
<p>     "Why not?" Comes the quiet response.</p>
<p>     "You have to wake up," there are hands running through the younger's hair, grabbing intimately at the nape of his neck with no ulterior motives. "I told you. We're up early today."</p>
<p>     "Just give me five more minutes here," Kakashi feels his throat tighten as he presses his brow into what must be Obito's shoulder. "I don't want to move."</p>
<p>     "I know you don't. Come on," the warmth leaves him suddenly, and Kakashi finds himself growing colder and colder. "I told you to--"</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>
  <b>Get up.</b>
</p>
<p>     The vibration of Kakashi's phone against his leg is what wakes him. He opens his eyes slowly, blearily, and realizes he had fallen asleep upright against the headboard of the bed, TV still chattering quietly with canned laughter.</p>
<p>
  <b>I'm going to leave you here if you don't respond. It's ten past.</b>
</p>
<p>     Kakashi rubs at his left eye carefully, yawning as he picks up his cellphone to do exactly that.</p>
<p>
  <b>Relax, I'm up. Let me change, and I'll meet you at the car.</b>
</p>
<p>     He does as he says he'll do. He goes into his bag to pull out fresh clothes and a toothbrush, being careful to freshen up without catching his own eyes - or <em> hers </em> - in the mirror. Kakashi can tell she's standing behind him as he's tugging on his shirt, and suddenly she's asking where he's going today, if Obito had eaten, if he had eaten, if they'd slept alright. He turns without looking to pack his things, ignoring her as she follows close behind. Her voice begins to ring in his ears, and as he gathers his phone and his charger, it becomes more desperate in tone. </p>
<p>     Kakashi can't take it. Finally, with miraculously steady hands, he leaves the room, bolting the door behind him. She begins wailing behind the door, her ghost seemingly heartbroken to be left behind again. It is a sound he begs his feet to carry him away from again and again.</p>
<p>     He's ripped away from the sound of her voice, however, by… Is that Obito?</p>
<p>     Kakashi raises a brow to his hairline as he stares down the long hallway, absolutely blown away by the voice he's hearing. Slowly and quietly, he walks forward, unsure if he's having another dream. </p>
<p>     Obito stands by the driver's side door of his car, phone in one hand and keys in the other, speaking into it. Now, that in and of itself isn't weird by any stretch, but what floors the younger is the <em> tone </em> he's taken. He sounds like a literal child, animating oddly and speaking almost as if he <em> were </em> one. He can't make out the entirety of the sentences, but his memory still holds most of the Japanese he'd learned - that's definitely the language, but he's speaking like an <em> actual child</em>, down to the grammatical differences<em>. </em> Who the <em> fuck </em> could he be talking to that he'd need to up his voice by two octaves, and dance around in one spot like a man deranged? Wait a second - did he call whoever's on the other end <em> senpai? </em></p>
<p>     Kakashi pauses to watch just a foot or two away from Obito, standing behind him. He can't resist the opportunity, when Obito hangs up with an elongated, clearly irritated huff.</p>
<p>     "Was that your boyfriend?"</p>
<p>     Obito tenses and turns slowly, as if Kakashi had dared to smack him as hard as he could on the back of the skull with no prior provocation, calling him as many swears as he could in the same breath.</p>
<p>     "<em>No. </em>Just a coworker," The information is given through gritted teeth. "Mind your own damn business. Get in the fucking car."</p>
<p>     Kakashi snorts, unable to keep himself from pushing the envelope as he moves to do as he's told. He slides into the passenger's seat as Obito shuts his own driver's side door, and dares to prod the bear. "How long have you two been dating--?"</p>
<p>     "You know what--" Obito reaches over, lightning fast, to smack Kakashi on the side of the head with an open palm without much mercy. "Mind your fucking business, Kakashi, it's <em> work.</em>"</p>
<p>     Kakashi lets out a belly laugh, a <em> true </em>laugh, as he wheezes out something about still having stitches. Obito turns the ignition over with a grunt of, "Should have thought of that before you ran your fucking mouth." Kakashi laughs again, laughs over the sound of Rin and her sobbing as they pull out of the parking lot and back onto the road.</p>
<p>     They sit in comfortable silence for an hour or so, smoking cigarettes and eating leftover snacks procured from the vending machines, listening to a vaguely crackling radio. The sun has started to rise by now, lighting up the sky in fantastic oranges and pinks that swallow the landscape whole. It keeps Kakashi's attention for a long time, until he finally works up the nerve to ask the question he's wanted to since he followed Obito out of his apartment. </p>
<p>     "...You're taking me with you on a hit, aren't you?"</p>
<p>     "You wanted to follow me. This is what I do."</p>
<p>     Kakashi nods once, allotting the point to Obito. He did want to follow him, he did want to come with. This was the result of that choice. Kakashi still can't say he holds any regrets.</p>
<p>     "Can I ask what sorts of people you go after?"</p>
<p>     "That's up to the buyer. I don't care who they are," Obito's knuckles tighten on the wheel, perhaps in an effort to keep his voice level. "I don't kill children. I don't kill women carrying children. Anything else is up to the buyer, like I said."</p>
<p>     Kakashi nods his understanding, but can't stop his own curiosity. "D'you work for someone?"</p>
<p>     Obito snorts something bitter and unamused. "You ask a lot of questions for a man in the worst possible position."</p>
<p>     This time, it's Kakashi's turn to scoff. "You know what they say about curiosity and the cat."</p>
<p>     "I do. Which means I know they were lying about satisfaction bringing it back." Obito says sarcastically, voice dark.</p>
<p>     Kakashi falls quiet, and so does Obito, at least for the moment. Kakashi turns his attention back out the window, watching the pavement pass under the tires, before he hears Obito speak again. "Don't think too hard about it. I--"</p>
<p>     Obito is cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing in the cupholder, and Kakashi turns to look when the other seems to check the caller ID. He doesn't get a chance to see the name before Obito is pulling off onto the shoulder of the road, phone in hand.</p>
<p>     "Get out."</p>
<p>     Kakashi raises an eyebrow, and leans back to face the other with a turn of his shoulders. "No way, I want to hear the voice again."</p>
<p>     "I said get out." Obito grits, and there's something off this time. His jaw is tense, his shoulders are tight, and one hand is white-knuckling the wheel. He doesn't look upset, exactly, but tense. On edge, like a cat with its back arched and ears back, staring down the center of its apprehension. Something's off. Whoever is calling him now can't be someone unimportant, like the last one probably was. </p>
<p>     Kakashi nods, getting the hint. He unbuckles his seatbelt and slides out smoothly, walking around to lean on the trunk of the car. He's patient while he waits, watching other cars pass and putting shapes and names to clouds above. He can't help but absently wonder who Obito is talking to that would make him react like that. Often, he speaks and holds himself as though he has control of the situation. This time, though, he acted like he couldn't wrestle with power if he tried. Like he couldn't manipulate the situation even at the threat of his own life. Tense. Kakashi would dare to call him nervous.</p>
<p>     Obito's voice pulls him from his thoughts. "Let's go." He calls through a cracked door, slamming it shut again.</p>
<p>     Kakashi does as he's told, sliding back into the car and resituating as though he'd never left. He doesn't ask about it, and Obito would most certainly refuse to tell. The only clear thing, the only thing Obito allows to be transparent, is that it takes him over an hour to not hold his shoulders like there's a knife to his neck. To let the visible knot work itself out of his jaw, to stop clenching his teeth like there's something between them. Like there's a scream, a swear, an angry yell only barely held back by them. </p>
<p>     But none of it really matters. The thought is slowly forgotten, and they drive on for far too long once again.</p>
<p>     It's hours before they reach the next hotel, just about completely dark out. This one is <em> substantially </em> nicer than the last, looking to be a kind of rebranded <em> Hilton </em>or something, though oddly small. Kakashi thinks nothing of it, lighting a cigarette and waiting for Obito to grab their rooms and come back with keys. It only takes a moment, just like last time, except the older comes back in something of a huff. Well, not a huff, but certainly off-put.</p>
<p>     "...Everything okay?" Kakashi asks, concerned they may have been denied boarding. He hops out of his seat to shut the passenger door with a chuckle. "You look like you got told to suck it up and sleep in the lobby."</p>
<p>     "Worse," Obito grunts, grabbing his bags, "We're going to have to split a room."</p>
<p>     Kakashi feels his stomach turn violently at the thought - he prays to any God that will listen that they won't be acting as one of his romance novels, forced to split a bed despite their uncertain standing with one another. Moreover, a splitting of the room would involve Obito being privy to his nightmares, at least to some frightening extent - the whimpering old cellmates had complained about, the screaming that once made Guy come running in fear of an intruder. The thrashing, off-putting twitching that sometimes wakes him, the <em> whimpering </em> he knows looks painfully pathetic. Sounds pathetic <em> . </em>There's a variety of things to worry about, here, and all of these concerns only come out as a cracked and brittle, "Uh…"</p>
<p>     "Relax," Obito says, tossing Kakashi his bag with a touch too much force. "Two beds."</p>
<p>     "Was this your choice?" The younger asks, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.</p>
<p>     "No," Obito answers immediately, "Were it up to me, I'd be protecting my privacy and yours. My employer set this up. I have to work nearby."</p>
<p>     His choice of wording while in public is impeccable, Kakashi can't deny. "You couldn't have picked up another room?" </p>
<p>     "They're booked," Obito says flatly, starting toward the lobby without waiting for his companion. "Trust me, I tried to put up a fight. And we're lucky one of us isn't sleeping on the floor."</p>
<p>     "Thanks." Kakashi scoffs, voice returning Obito's sarcasm. They find their room easily, not exchanging any other slight barbs. Obito sets his things down on a desk, shoving a backpack aside and opening up a duffel bag. Kakashi doesn't really mind him any, picking out his last pair of clean sweatpants to throw on in the bathroom. He's about to head into the other room to change, when Obito asks a favor of him. Well, more like he issues an order over the sound of zippers being undone and metal clicking together.</p>
<p>     "Open a window, would you? It's about to smell like chemicals in here."</p>
<p>     Kakashi hums his response, doing what's asked of him with only slight curiosity. He elects, this time, not to hover or watch from a distance, instead moving to carry out his original plan. T-shirt, sweatpants, bite the bullet and go to bed. Let Obito alone, give him time to himself in an environment where he cannot give him privacy on top of it. There's a pang of guilt in Kakashi's stomach for it as he shuts the bathroom door behind him, careful not to catch his own eyes in the mirror. Regardless of whose idea this had been, it didn't feel good to be sleeping here, in this room specifically. Not because he himself was being put out by it - in fact, it was exactly the opposite, sleeping so near Obito made him edge on feeling <em> safe </em>- but because he knew it likely made his old friend viscerally uncomfortable. With the way he's been up until this point, keeping his work calls close to his chest and his information painfully scarce, it's more probable still that Obito is a little more than irritated by the entirety of this arrangement.</p>
<p>     With a sigh through his nose, Kakashi frees his face of his mask, this time making the fatal mistake of catching his reflection's dulled glance. </p>
<p>     He thinks he looks tired. Or maybe, his brain calls back, he's always looked this way.</p>
<p>     Kakashi braces both hands on the edge of the sink and caves to the old impulse, staring harder at the man on the other side of the mirror. Who is that? Who gave him his name? Does that scar really look so deep, despite the years that have passed since he gained it? Is it truly so long that it nearly reaches the corner of his mouth? Who does he resemble, if anyone at all? Kakashi reaches up to brush his fingers along the edge of his own scar, the selfsame one the reflection has. The one that reminds him that the man in the reflection and the man braced against the sink are, indeed, the same man. The one that reminds him that some people, some friends, are irreplaceable. It doesn't do to murder them in cold blood, as the judge, jury, and prosecution told him he did. </p>
<p><em>      Jealous rage</em>, he remembers hearing, <em> she had so much love to give, and not enough of it was for you. Isn't that right, son? </em></p>
<p><em>      Objection, prosecution is leading my </em> fifteen-year-old <em> client-- </em></p>
<p>
  <em>      Overruled, prosecution will continue with this line of questioning. Disregard, defendant is being tried as an adult. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>      No-- No, I just wanted to look after Rin. She was my best friend, she was all I had left after my friend Obito died. Disappeared, I mean.  </em>
</p>
<p><em>      So you protected her by stabbing her with a five-inch steel blade as many times as you could manage, but only </em> after <em> you beat her within an inch of death?  </em></p>
<p>     Objection<em>, argumentative-- </em></p>
<p>     When Kakashi blinks again, the voices cut out, and he's alone with the man in the mirror. There is no medicine cabinet to reach into for a quick cure, no alcohol he can break into, no fifth he can swallow in a sitting. No personal favorite, heavy-duty painkillers that he can take without alerting Obito to it. He imagines the other definitely has them on hand with his line of work - whether or not they're prescription grade is another question. Still, he thinks he's heard the telltale rattling before, and--</p>
<p>     No. Kakashi buries his face in his hands, and guilt pangs anew.</p>
<p>     He's not fucking <em> stealing </em>from Obito. It wasn't that bad. It would never be that bad.</p>
<p>     Kakashi resists the urge to punch the mirror off the wall, yanks on his sweatpants, and heads back out into the room. Obito still sits where he'd been when the younger left, but now, there's a spread before him. A few towels, various small pins and screwdrivers lined up neatly, pipe brushes, a bottle of some kind of solvent. It <em> does </em>smell, as the other said it would. Sickly sweet, almost, nearing minty. Still not yet overpowering. He must have just started, or perhaps just finished, because he's putting away the bottle just as Kakashi's curiosity starts to get the better of him. He finds himself stuck in place, watching the minute movements of Obito's hands and shoulders as he works, the sound of gears clicking as they come apart and get pressed together nearly relaxing.</p>
<p>     "I can feel you burning a hole through the back of my head." Obito states, startling Kakashi and making him look away quickly. </p>
<p>     "Sorry." He says, finally moving across the room to put his jeans back in his bag. He can be normal, he's played normal for thirty some-odd years now. Well. Normal-ish.</p>
<p>     Obito huffs out a sigh, but it doesn't sound irritated. "...Don't worry about it."</p>
<p>     Against his better judgement, Kakashi pads closer to the desk, careful not to get in Obito's light. He stands close enough to nearly be able to brush the other's shoulder, but not so close as to hover overmuch. "Cleaning a gun?" He winces at his own stupid question. Of course he is. He's certainly not making Christmas dinner.</p>
<p>     "Yes," Obito responds nonetheless, his eyes not once leaving his task. "This one's due for it."</p>
<p>     Kakashi hums, watching each and every little movement his friend makes. The pushing and displacement of rods and springs, what gets oiled and scrubbed, what is wiped down and what is otherwise left alone. He's got nice hands, the younger notes offhandedly in the back of his own mind. He can watch the tendons moving on the backs of them, watch as dexterous fingers move quickly and efficiently. Every move is calculated, isn't wasted. It's been done a hundred times, and will surely be done a hundred times more. There's something about that that makes Kakashi's breath catch in his throat.</p>
<p>     "...You can. Pull up a chair if you feel like it," Obito says, pausing so briefly Kakashi swears he made it up. "Or don't. I'm almost done."</p>
<p>     Kakashi can't even spit out a response, because he's too busy trying to do exactly that. He ends up dragging one of the larger chairs from the corner of the room over toward the desk, sitting down to watch almost eagerly with one knee up to his chest. Obito doesn't say much else, but to Kakashi's surprise, he does seem to be alright with the questions he starts in with.</p>
<p>     "This a favorite of yours? The gun, I mean." Did hitmen have favorite guns, or was that just a book trope? Kakashi suddenly feels, again, stupid for asking, but it's not like he can suck the question back into his mouth and swallow it again.</p>
<p>     "No," Obito states, taking a cylinder brush to its guts, "I have a .45 I have an attachment to. M1911."</p>
<p>     Oh. Well, maybe most hitmen don't have favorites, but this one does, he supposes.</p>
<p>     "Are you using this one for work?" The question is loaded, and Kakashi is almost certain he knows the answer.</p>
<p>     "Yes."</p>
<p>     "You clean them often?"</p>
<p>     "You clean your kitchen often?"</p>
<p>     Kakashi nods his <em> touché</em>, and falls quiet. He doesn't mind just watching in comfortable silence. Besides, there's something captivating about the way Obito focuses. Furrowed brows, lips pressed just barely together, eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed as he takes in his task. The mechanical clicking is oddly nice to listen to, the slide of metals being a sound he never thought he'd like. He pays rapt attention as Obito begins to piece the weapon back together, setting the barrel and recoil back in their rightful places. </p>
<p>     "How quickly can you put this back together?" Kakashi asks, raising a brow. </p>
<p>     "About five to seven seconds, stripped down to its major parts alone." Obito says, without missing a beat, unflinching.</p>
<p>     "That's <em> such </em>a lie," Kakashi snorts with a half smile, challenging him for the thrill of being proven wrong, "It has to take longer than that."</p>
<p>     Obito stops dead in his reassembly, sighs through his nose, and begins to reverse the process. He strips it back down to the basics, lays them out neatly, and looks to the younger man.</p>
<p>     "Count down from five, and time me out loud."</p>
<p>     "Oh <em> really?</em>"</p>
<p>     "You wanted to run your mouth. I'll prove it." There's a slight spark in Obito's eyes that reads like old determination. Like a chord was struck that hasn't been in many, many years, like an old flame reignited. <em> I'll prove it. </em>Those words are, strangely, like a healing salve on an open wound. It's friendly. Lighthearted, nearly, though the elder's tone is steely with resolve.</p>
<p>     Kakashi laughs softly, and concedes with a shrug. "Okay," he says, "I'll bite. Ready?"</p>
<p>     "Just count, idiot."</p>
<p>     Kakashi scoffs, returning with a softly said <em> jackass, </em> and begins his count.</p>
<p>Five.</p>
<p>Four.</p>
<p>Three.</p>
<p>Two.</p>
<p>One.</p>
<p>     Obito moves at lightning speed while Kakashi counts back upwards - the heavy sounds of metal against metal, the barrel being placed back into the slide and the recoil being placed atop it. The connected pieces are placed expertly into the frame, and he pulls the slide back three times once it's locked into place. The magazine is put back into the weapon, the safety flicked on, and--</p>
<p>     "Six. Time," Kakashi calls, whistling a low tone. "You weren't kidding." </p>
<p>     "I told you, five to seven seconds," Obito almost gloats, though his facial expression doesn't betray him. He stores the gun into the same bag he pulled it from originally, alongside the towel and the case for the brushes. "You'll need to keep the window open all night. I want the smell out of here by the time we leave."</p>
<p>     The younger man nods, moving the chair out of Obito's way so the other can wipe down the desk and wash his hands. When he's done, having left no trace of himself or the weapons he's cleaned, he pulls a cigarette out of the pack in his other bag, and offers one up to Kakashi. He declines, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed and Obito shrugs, stepping outside.</p>
<p>     Kakashi's eyes drift towards Obito's bag, and his thoughts toward the one thing that will silence them. He stands again, his legs moving on autopilot toward the promise of quiet, and his hand stops short of the zipper.</p>
<p><em>      No!, </em> hisses his conscience, <em> you're </em> stealing <em> from </em> Obito. <em> Is this how you'd repay him?  </em></p>
<p>     He considers himself lucky to still have a conscience about these things. Kakashi's hands fall to his sides with a <em> smack</em>, his eyes hit the ceiling, and he heaves a sigh that screams defeat. He supposes, at this point, it would be better to just face his nightmares than it would be to continue to fight this fight. It would be better to lay down and sleep under threat of humiliation than to stay awake and fear thievery. Betrayal. General asshole behavior, if Kakashi were being honest with himself. Bullshit, asshole behavior.</p>
<p>     So he does just that. He moves his own bag from off of his bed and onto the floor, falls on top of the sheets and comforter, and shuts his eyes. Obito comes back in, and says nothing. Kakashi thinks he hears the TV turn on for background noise, and the rustling of bags and transferring of equipment. That's fine. It's fine. It's all okay. It's okay. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>     "Have you ever thought about killing me?"</p>
<p>     "Twice now," comes a hushed response into his hair, "I've thought about killing you."</p>
<p>     "Tell me how," it's whispered into dark quiet, muffled against a shoulder. "How would you do it? When did you think about it?"</p>
<p>     "When you asked me about her. I thought about wrapping my hands around your throat," he says, pressing his nose into the other's temple, threading their fingers together slowly, so carefully, "Again when you were asleep in the passenger seat, with the pistol in my center console."</p>
<p>     "Why did you spare me back then? Tell me the truth," there's a gasp in the dark as a knee slides between someone's thighs. "Tell me why."</p>
<p>     "I don't know why."</p>
<p>     "You're lying to me."</p>
<p>     A shudder, a blurring of the two of them. They are each other - a pair of eyes in two different skulls, two bodies with a single soul. "I didn't want you to die like that."</p>
<p>     "<em>Why not?</em>"</p>
<p>     "<em>You are mine to kill.</em>"</p>
<p>-- </p>
<p>     Kakashi wakes to the sound of a mechanical, methodical <em> clickclick. </em></p>
<p>     He doesn't open his eyes, not yet. Something's happening - there's a sense of impending doom, fear, and his heart races with the building tension. It was just a sound, but one dangerously close to his ear, one far too close to the back of his skull for comfort. What <em> was </em>that sound? Why was nothing coming of it, why the pause? What was that noise, why did it sound like--?</p>
<p><em>      Oh</em>, Kakashi thinks, <em> I've heard that sound before. </em> He tries to keep his breathing even, so as not to betray his current status of 'very asleep'. </p>
<p>     There's a gun to his head. </p>
<p>     Kakashi waits, focusing on feigning sleep, focusing on flicking his eyes back and forth behind his eyelids and keeping his breaths slow, nearly countable. He waits for the hammer to slam the firing pin, waits to see what true blackness looks like, waits to see Rin and his father, Minato and Kushina. He waits to see what will happen, wonders why it had to be Obito and while also thanking <em> God </em>that it is, and then… Nothing. Nothing, nothing, just breathing from his friend and would-be assailant that grows more frustrated with each quickened inhale through his nose.</p>
<p>     "<em>Fuck,</em>" comes the hissed whisper, "Fuck."</p>
<p>     Something is set down against a bedside table, and fabric shuffles. At first, Kakashi thinks it could be Obito gathering his things - but when something is carefully, nearly <em> gingerly </em> draped over him that smells of lighter fluid and gunpowder, he understands what's happened. The fabric of it is soft, and carries its owner's strangely comforting scent. Heavy, warm, comforting, so <em> soft. </em>It's Obito's zip-up sweater, laid over him in place of bedsheets. </p>
<p>     He couldn't pull the trigger.</p>
<p>     Kakashi doesn't dare move. He waits, listening as Obito apparently grabs his gun and his bag, and steps out the door. He's gone, more than likely about to start working. He's gone. He's gone, and Kakshi finds he's been spared once again, left alive once more. Why? Why, after the times Obito had insisted he'd been a burden? Why, after the times he had implied Kakashi was even lucky to be alive? Why didn't he do it? Why didn't he pull the trigger? Why was the sound of the hammer cocking still ringing in his ears? Why, most of all, couldn't he just take out the garbage?</p>
<p>     Kakashi lays silently in the dark, in shock, in awe, and painfully, unregrettably, childishly in love. Obito just tried to kill him.</p>
<p>
  <em>      And failed. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this took forever sorry class. i like comments, dying, and being dead :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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